I STOPPED THE MAFIA BOSS'S KILLER DOGS WITH ONE GESTURE - THEN HE WHISPERED THE NAME I HAD BURIED

By noon the following day, Nero was awake, breathing on his own, and resting comfortably in a temperature-controlled recovery room inside the mansion.

The estate, however, had transformed into an armed garrison.

Over fifty heavily armed Rossi soldiers occupied every inch of the perimeter. Nobody was allowed to enter or leave without Matteo’s personal clearance.

In the grand study on the main floor, the heavy mahogany doors were locked.

Matteo sat behind his massive desk. Beside him stood Marco, whose face was bruised and grim. I stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding Dante’s leather leash as he sat quietly by my side.

In the center of the room, sitting on a velvet chair, was Luca Rinaldi—Matteo’s cousin.

Luca was sweat-drenched, his expensive silk shirt wrinkled, his eyes darting nervously between Matteo and the dark Malinois standing beside me.

"Matteo, this is insanity!" Luca whined, waving his hands dramatically. "You're holding me hostage in your own house! I am your blood! I am your cousin!"

"Paolo woke up twenty minutes ago in the ICU," Matteo said coldly, not lifting his eyes from the silver letter opener he was turning over in his hands.

Luca’s voice hitched. "What?"

"Paolo identified the weapon used to stab him," Matteo continued, his voice terrifyingly calm. "A rare, custom-made Italian stiletto with an ivory handle. The exact same stiletto our grandfather gave you on your twenty-first birthday, Luca."

Luca went deathly pale. "He... he's lying! The boy was delirious! He was dying!"

"We also found the chemical supplier in Milan," I spoke up, stepping forward, Dante matching my stride step-for-step. "The organophosphate toxin used in the water reservoir was purchased three days ago using an offshore account registered under a shell company called Vipera Logistics. That company is owned by your wife, Luca."

Luca slammed his hands on the armrests of his chair, standing up abruptly. "YOU BITCH! You come into this house, a cheap cop-killing whore from Rome, and you dare accuse me—"

BANG!

Matteo didn't even stand up. He fired a single round from his Sig Sauer directly through the armrest of Luca’s chair, two inches from his knee.

Luca shrieked, falling backward onto the floor, clutching his leg in terror.

"If you speak to her like that again," Matteo whispered, his dark eyes burning with a lethal black flame, "the next bullet goes through your tongue."

Matteo stood up slowly, walking around the desk until he stood over his cousin.

"Why, Luca?" Matteo asked softly. "My father raised you like his own son. I gave you thirty percent of our shipping revenues. Why sell us out to the Camorra?"

Luca looked up from the floor, his face twisting into a mask of pure, bitter hatred.

"Because you're a fool, Matteo!" Luca spat out, blood dripping from his lip where he had bitten it in fear. "You're obsessed with honor! You're obsessed with these damn dogs! The Camorra offered us fifty million euros a year to open the Naples docks for their drug shipments! We could have been kings! But you refused because of your precious 'morals'!"

"My father died protecting those docks from poison," Matteo said quietly. "And you tried to murder his dogs with it."

Matteo turned his back on his cousin, looking toward Marco.

"Take him to the basement," Matteo ordered coldly. "Find out when the Camorra plans to launch their strike on the harbor. When you have the time and location... put him in the sea."

"No! MATTEO! PLEASE!" Luca screamed as Marco and two heavy enforcers dragged him out of the room, his fingernails scraping uselessly against the polished hardwood floor. "WE ARE BLOOD! MATTEO!"

The heavy oak doors slammed shut, sealing out the screams.

The room fell quiet.

Matteo walked over to where I stood. He reached out, his hand gently touching my cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray lock of hair from my forehead.

"The strike on the harbor is coming tonight, Chiara," Matteo said softly. "The Camorra clan from Rome—the same men who hold the evidence that can clear your name—will be there in person to take the docks."